Live Together, Die Alone
by AlexieBelle
Summary: Welcome to the 71st annual Hunger Games! Death and danger will thrive; blood will be spilled. Dare to submit a tribute? *CLOSED*
1. Tribute Form

**Live Together, Die Alone**

**The Seventy-first annual Hunger Games**

**Author's Note: So I know that practically everyone is writing one of these submit-a-tribute fanfictions but I'm just so excited to do my own! Just fill out the form below and submit a tribute in a review. Enter as many characters as you like.**

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**Tribute Form:**

Full name:

Gender:

Age:

District:

Appearance:

Personality:

Family and Friends:

History:

Strengths:

Weaknesses:

Strategies:

Weapon of choice:

Chosen or Volunteered? (If a volunteer, please explain why):

Reaction to the Reaping:

Token:

Reaping outfit:

Chariot outfit:

Interview outfit:

Interview angle:

Interview quote:

Training score:

Romance/Alliance:

Other:

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**District Professions**

District 1: Luxury items

District 2: Quarrying Stone and weaponry (also the main supplier of Panem's peacekeepers)

District 3: Electronics and technology

District 4: Fishing

District 5: DNA manipulation*****

District 6: Scientific research and medicine*****

District 7: Lumber

District 8: Textiles

District 9: Electricity*****

District 10: Livestock

District 11: Agriculture

District 12: Coal Mining

***It should be noted that the professions listed for these districts are unknown, but for the purpose of this fanfiction I felt inclined to fill in the blanks and make up my own.**

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**Later on I will update a chapter regarding sponsorships and point systems that you can use to help your tributes and better their chances of survival.**

**May the odds be ever in your favor!**


	2. List of Final Tributes

**Live Together, Die Alone**

**The Seventy-first annual Hunger Games**

**Author's note: Hey people! Just wanted to thank everyone that has submitted a tribute so far – I love all of your characters! ****So, I have a question: how would you prefer me to write the story? Constantly switching POVs? Sticking to one character until they die and then moving on to another? Watching the Games as a Capitol viewer? I want your opinion on this, as it's you I'm writing for, so please leave a review and tell me what you have to say :)**

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**Final List of Tributes**

**District: **1

**Male **– Onyx Chaplin

**Female **– Jenna Sapphire

**District: **2

**Male **– Drusus Vann

**Female **– Zroya Marks

**District: **3

**Male **– Keid Sylvester

**Female **– Kieri Aran

**District: **4

**Male **– Eric Ross

**Female **– Skylar Ridged

**District: **5

**Male **– Copperton 'Cop' Smythe

**Female **– Tayla Rose Ashwood

**District: **6

**Male **–Carrew Femih

**Female **– Messa-Rose 'Me-Ro' Bria

**District: **7

**Male **– Ewald Denmarc

**Female **– Victorilyn 'Tori' Hayden

**District: **8

**Male** – Harim Tomen

**Female **– Olaria Raine Ginper

**District: **9

**Male** – Parker Cato

**Female **– Holly Everburn

**District: **10

**Male** –Warren Maseem

**Female **– Julia Knight

**District: **11

**Male **– Demitri Yarrow

**Female **– Regan Ashendria

**District: **12

**Male **– Daryl Rivers

**Female **– Collice Aithne

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**May the odds be _ever_ in your favor! **


	3. Sponsoring

**Live Together, Die Alone**

**The Seventy-first annual Hunger Games**

**Author's Note: Below I have included all of the information you need to become a sponsor in the Games :)**

***Sponsoring will not begin until the tributes enter the games ***

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**Sponsoring**

**Point System:**

- You earn three points for submitting a tribute

- You earn two points for leaving a review

- You can earn a maximum of five points for suggesting ideas about the conditions in the arena and any dangers that could pose a threat towards the tributes.

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**Points received as of 21/11/10:**

Bandgeek791: 5 points

Cam (Ckoenig): 7 points

Citruszen: 9 points

Esse Quam Videri: 9 points

Exxoh: 5 points

FlitterCherub: 9 points

Frenzied Warrior: 9 points

Gossamergirl: 9 points

GreenField: 4 points

Hahukum Konn: 17 points

IceTigers: 5 points

I heart manga 89: 11 points

Jamimlia: 11 points

KatnissIsTheLove: 11 points

LittleAsian: 3 points

Max Alleyne: 18 points

MaximumWarrior-of the GAMES: 5 points

MockingjayAHolic: 2 points

MONSTERRRRR: 12 points

Tayla: 3 points

Tiggerluhoo: 11 points

xXB-A-C-O-N Spells LOVEXx: 5 points

**If you have any queries regarding your number of points feel free to message me :)**

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**Gifts:**

Five points**:**

- Small bottle of water

- Bandages

- Dried fruit

- Small loaf of bread

- Small container

Eight points:

- Rope

- Dried meat

- Empty backpack

- Healing cream for minor wounds

Ten points:

- Small weapon (e.g. knife, dagger, taser, etc.)

- Large loaf of bread

- Large bottle of water

- Small first aid kit (healing cream, bandages, needle and thread)

Twenty points:

- Food pack (Large bottle of water, large loaf of bread, dried meat, dried fruit, small container)

- Full backpack (Large bottle of water, small loaf of bread, dried meat, night vision glasses, healing cream, small dagger, rope)

- Poison antidote

- Healing cream for major wounds

- Water purifier

Twenty-five points:

- Large weapon (e.g. spear, bow and ten arrows, sword, axe, etc.)

- Insulated sleeping bag

- Climbing gear (Carabiners, rope, harness, helmet)

**Additional Information:**

You can start collecting points immediately

You are free to sponsor any tribute in the game, not just your own

If there is anything not listed above that you wish to give as a gift to the sponsor, pm me and I can evaluate whether the item in questionable is suitable, and if it is how much it will cost.

When submitting a gift, please include the name and district of the tribute you wish to give it to. The character will receive the gift in the following chapter of the story.

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**If you have any questions, feel free to send me a message :)**


	4. Prologue

**Live Together, Die Alone**

**The Seventy-first annual Hunger Games**

**Author's Note: Hey everyone! So here it is; the prologue to the story. After reading through your feedback to the question I asked previously, I've decided to do sporadic chapters centering around a young Capital socialite and her experience watching the Games play out. The rest of the chapters will change POV with each tribute as per request :)**

***Quick Note***

**There are still two free slots to be filled for the male tributes in districts five and nine, so if you want to create a tribute please do. However, if there are any remaining slots still free by next Friday, I will make up my own and use them for blood bath characters to enable the progress of the story!**

**Enjoy reading!**

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**Prologue**

Rosaline Harp stared passively out of the car window as it edged slowly down the road with a thick stream of traffic. A large wave of people flocked passed her on the packed sidewalk, the bright streetlights illuminating their tinted skin and excited smiles in a rainbow of colour.

Through gaps in the crowd, Rosaline could see street venders selling their emblazoned goods to eager hands; everyone wanting an inscribed T-shirt depicting their favorite victor, or large flags that flashed 'Happy 71st Hunger Games' in neon tones. Banners and streamers hung from buildings, swaying in the light breeze, and tea-lights glittered sporadically in every window.

It was monumental. And crazy. It was the Hunger Games.

Rosaline drew her eyes away from the lavish decorations outside to the dim leather interior in the car. With a quick flick of her wrist, she turned a light on and fished a compact out of her small clutch. Holding it up to her face, she checked her reflection. There wasn't a flaw in her makeup or a single golden hair out of place. Life was good.

The buzzing of the car intercom interrupted her inspection. She pressed a small red button and her driver's scraggily voice echoed in the small space.

"We're nearing the Citadel, Miss Harp, and parking seems quite scarce. Shall I just pull up near the main entrance?"

"Yes, Pickett, try and get as close as you can," Rosaline replied, applying an unnecessary coat of lip-gloss to her already shiny red lips.

The car drew to a slow halt and a uniformed valet with bright yellow skin immediately opened the door and offered his hand to Rosaline. She slid along the cold leather seats and grasped his hand, noting that in this light it looked as though the man suffered from a bad case of jaundice. She emerged from the car, carefully avoiding treading on the long hemline of her dress, and nodded thanks to valet. He winked and sped off to help someone else.

Rosaline leant down to the open window of the car and said "You can pick me up from the same spot tonight, Picket, after the show has ended." He nodded in reply and pulled the car out of its parking space.

Straightening, Rosaline ran her hand over her dress to smooth out any wrinkles and began to maneuver her way to the Citadel.

The Citadel was the oldest and most extravagant building in the Capitol. Made completely of white marble, it towered majestically over its neighbors and overshadowed them all with impressive architecture and design. Thick white pillars grew from the ground up, twisting into arches and molding into the circular building. Large windows stretched the length of the building, giving a clear view of the luxurious décor to all those outside.

From where she was standing, Rosaline could see the large glittering chandeliers that bathed the surrounding paved pavilion in a golden glow. Tonight, the building was looking even more spectacular than usual.

Dozens of spotlights shone in the air and onto the building's white exterior, making the marble sparkle and shine in the cool evening air. The tall windows were partially concealed by a large red banner stretching across the front of the building, reading – as so many of the other banners did – 'Happy 71st Hunger Games' in a thick gold cursive. Fireworks were going off overhead, splashing explosions of colour across the night sky and adding large bangs to the deafening roar of the crowd. Rosaline looked up as a collective gasp broke out in the crowd, and saw that one of the fireworks had exploded in the shape of the Hunger Games logo, the large 'HG' glittering like a jewel before slowly dispersing into the night.

Rosaline made her way to the main entrance, dodging a large group of teenage girls, all of whom were wearing identical 'Team Finnick' t-shirts and giggling loudly. She followed a wide stretch of red carpet to the large white doors, passing several famous faces in the crowd.

Stopping briefly to exchange greetings with Caesar Flickerman and to have a quick gossip with District One's stylist - Tinsel Leaplily - about the more unfortunate get-ups on parade ("I mean, seriously! A pink leopard print suit with fur trim? _So_ two months ago!"), Rosaline finally reached the bright entrance hall.

Passing through the doors, Rosaline was pleased to see that it was slightly less packed inside than it was out. She took a deep breath and scanned the room for her parents, finally spotting her mother in a far corner. Rosaline made her way over, grabbing a flute of champagne off of a server's tray in the process.

"Mother!'" Rosaline cried when she was close enough to be heard.

A small woman turned around, her long silver hair piled atop of her head in the shape of a swan, wearing a long white dress that was tied in at the waist with a black velvet sash.

"Darling, you're here! And don't you look stunning" Rosaline's mother excused herself from her friends and rushed over to her daughter, stretching up to plant two air kisses on her daughter's cheeks, almost catching her in the eye with the styled head of the swan that was rock hard with hairspray.

"Where's Daddy?" Rosaline asked, eyeing the swan carefully.

"I believe he went to meet with President Snow, they always have business to attend to." Rosaline's mother shook her head, making the swan bounce comically up and down. "Oh, that reminds me, your father and I have been invited to watch the Games in President Snow's box, so you and Vesper will be by yourself. You'll look after your sister?"

Rosaline nodded, "Of course. Where is she?"

"Up in our box already, the eager little thing. Can't wait for the reapings to start." She began to laugh, her high-pitched voice lilting in the air.

The pair were then interrupted by the arrival of another group of her mother's society friends, so after a quick good-bye and and about a dozen air-kisses later, Rosaline departed and made her way upstairs.

She walked up the large staircase before turning a corner that lead to the row of boxes, and made her way down one of the exquisitely decorated corridors. Rosaline drained her champagne glass and handed it to a passing busboy, replacing it with another. Stopping at a large floor-length mirror, she adjusted the straps on her emerald green dress and ran a hand through her long hair, currently the colour of golden syrup. Rosaline's appearance was rather tame in comparison to the garishness displayed by some of the residents of the capitol; she stayed far away from the skin pigmentations and crazy plastic surgeries. She found it all ridiculous.

Tearing herself away from her reflection, Rosaline continued down the corridor and found her family's box. Drawing aside the red velvet curtain, she stepped inside the small room. A chandelier hung from the ceiling, casting a soft glow. Five chairs were set at the far end overlooking the balcony, their golden frames sparkling in the light.

A small head peeped over the high back of the chair in the far right corner, tufts of candyfloss pink hair pulled back in a high ponytail.

Rosaline walked round and settled herself in the chair beside her sister, tugging on one of the pink curls that fell to her sister's shoulders.

Vesper's small hand batted her sister away and looked up from the book she had been reading, pouting at her sister in mock annoyance. "I've told you not to do that!" Her voice squeaked.

Rosaline laughed, set her drink down on one of the side tables, and leant over to look at her sister's reading material; a thin black book entitled 'The Seventy First Annual Hunger Games – Your Personal Guide' in shiny red letters.

"Daddy got it for me." Vesper told her sister, answering her unasked question. "There's one for you, too." Vesper picked up an identical book that was resting on a small end table and handed it to her sister.

Rosaline opened the book and flicked through the pages, scanning the sections entitled 'The Hunger Games, a History' and 'Hall of Victors', and flicked it shut when the pages turned blank. From past experience, Rosaline knew that the book would automatically fill up with information about this year's tributes after they were reaped, and later on it would include details regarding the arena and a drawn map.

Rosaline stood up and placed the guide on the table, picking up her flute of champagne in the process. Walking back over, she stopped and looked over the balcony to the area below. A large stage was situated towards the front, curving with the shape of the building, surrounded by a dozen cameras that were set up in preparation for the live show.

Looking down, she could see thousands of people making their way to their seats, talking and laughing in a sea of excitement.

_It should be starting soon, _Rosaline thought.

Looking up, she gazed at the row of private boxes circling the wall. Rosaline's eyes settled on the very centre box, where her parents and President Snow were situated, along with several other of Snow's chancellors and theit wives. Bored with the scene, Rosaline's gaze drifted and she caught the eye of Finnick Odair. He was sitting in the victors' box with a collection of former competitors, drink in hand. He nodded in her direction with a smirk on his face and saluted her with his glass.

Rosaline repeated his gesture and shot him a quick smile. She had known Finnick for several years, constantly running into him at social functions and - after his initial attempt to charm her - they had formed a kind of friendship.

As she turned around to sit back down, the lights dimmed and the crowd hushed. The show was about to begin.

Vesper tossed her guide to the side and sat up straight. Her eyes bright with excitement, she began to jostle up and down in her chair. Rosaline quietly laughed at her sister's enthusiasm. Ever since she had been old enough to understand, Vesper had loved watching the Games and had made it her goal in life to be a presenter on the show. Now, at age eight, she possessed a vast knowledge of the Game's history and could quote full passages of text from history books on the matter, much to Rosaline's amusement.

The hall settled into darkness and a single spotlight shone down onto the stage. A man and woman suddenly appeared in the bright light, drawing a deafening applause from the crowd. Rosaline and Vesper joined in, leaning forward in their seats, Vesper stamping her little feat on the ground.

"Hello to The Capitol!" Ivy Gripevine screamed to the crowd, her dark green hair spilled down her back in thick waves. The audience replied in kind, screaming back, waving glow sticks and flashing flags in the air.

"We'll be going live in just a second, folks, so get ready." The man chimed in – his bright smile contrasting with his dark purple skin.

"Who's that? I don't recognize him." Rosaline quietly asked her sister.

"Lennock Spinreed. He was District Four's presenter last year but was promoted when Annie Cresta won." Vesper replied, not taking her eyes off of the stage.

"Some promotion," Rosaline said, eyeing Lennock's obviously expensive silver suit that looked as though it was embedded with diamonds.

Vesper shushed her sister as a dark screen flickered to life behind the pair on stage, bathing them in a white glow. The number ten appeared or screen, signaling the audience to start counting down.

"Ten…Nine…Eight" The audience shouted, their voices echoing throughout the hall.

"Seven…Six…Five" Cameras moved into position, focusing on the presenters.

"Four…Three…Two" Rosaline shared an eager smile with her sister.

"One!" Coloured lights flashed and Panem's national anthem began to play.

"Hello Panem and welcome to the seventy-first annual Hunger Games!"

The crowd cheered. The Games had begun.

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**So how was that? Loved it? Hated it? Leave a review and tell me what you think.**

**I'll be posting the first chapter in the coming week, when you'll be introduced to the lovely tributes from districts One and Two!**


	5. Reapings: District One

**Live Together, Die Alone**

**The Seventy-first annual Hunger Games**

**Author's Note: Yay! Chapter one is here :D It took a little longer than I anticipated, but real life kind of got on the way… I had hoped to include more than just District One's reapings into the first chapter, but I knew it would take a lot longer to get that done and I though all you lovely people would want to read it sooner rather than later.**

***Quick Note: There's only one spot left for the male tribute in District Nine so get submitting! It would be greatly appreciated!***

**Happy reading…**

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**District One: Reapings**

"_Hello Panem and welcome to the seventy-first annual Hunger Games!" _

_The crowd cheered. The Games had begun._

Jenna Sapphire's POV

The sun streamed in through my large bedroom windows and woke me from my restless slumber. Blinking heavily, I was dragged slowly out of my dream, brain groggy and tired. My eyes focused on the ceiling as I stared passively at the golden shapes that were plastered about the room, dancing in the light.

With a sigh, I rolled over and buried my head in my pillow. I'd barely gotten any sleep last night and I desperately tried to sink back into unconsciousness. I hadn't had a good night sleep since…well, since Jordan died, and it was taking its toll. A wave of despair rushed over me as memories flocked back into my mind; Jordan and I playing together as children, Jordan and I spying on one of our parents' dinner parties, Jordan and I training together for the first time, Jordan volunteering for the reapings while I proudly watched from the sidelines…

The reapings. They were today.

With a jolt, my mind snapped to attention and I jumped into action. Flinging aside my thick duvet, I climbed out of bed, stretching my taut muscles that were stiff from hours of intense training. Rushing over to my window that overlooked the town square, I was relieved to see that people were still setting up the stage and hanging decorations. I still had a little time to get ready.

Dashing to the bathroom, I jumped into the shower and washed my hair, trying not to dwell on what I was about to do. When I finished, I grabbed the clothes that I had picked out yesterday and hung on the outside of my large wardrobe. I pulled the white dress over my head and smoothed it down, the light cotton soft against my skin. Turning round, I found my reflection in the large mirror and wasn't exactly pleased at what I saw. The dress looked good - the iridescent silver thread decorating the fabric glittered in the sun, seemingly making it glow – but the rest of me looked all wrong. My damp blonde locks hung like a curtain around my thin face, dark purple shadows prominent beneath my eyes. I looked tired and ill – nothing like the girl I used to be.

I crossed the room, my feet cold on the hardwood floor, and sat down at my mirrored vanity mirror. I picked up my silver hairbrush and ran it through my dark-blonde hair, untangling the knots and smoothing down any stray locks. It was a slight improvement. I then fished out my makeup bag and painted an elaborate mask onto my face, carefully hiding the purple shadows and the few blemishes my skin had. I knew that the cameras would pick up everything.

I heard the beginnings of a crowd forming outside and I knew that the residents of District One were making their way to the assigned sections about the town square. My parents were already out of the house; my mother would be assisting with the elaborate decorations outside and my father would be holed up in his jewelers, working until the last possible minute. We'd never been a particularly close family, but when Jordan died, we barely spoke to one another – throwing ourselves into different activities in an attempt to bury our grief. I had concentrated on my training; my father on his jewelers; and my mother on a vast array of duties that ranged from hosting strained dinner parties to drinking her weight in wine.

When I finished in front of the mirror, I made for my bedroom door but stopped, teetering on a sudden thought. Giving in, I walked back over to my bed and scrabbled on the floor, reaching blindly for the small wooden box that I had shoved beneath it. With tentative fingers, I pried the box open and picked up the delicate silver necklace. I carefully clipped it around my neck, the chain cold on my skin. My hand snaked up and grasped the sapphire pendant, the cool gemstone resting at the hollow of my neck. It had been a gift from Jordan – the last thing he had ever given to me. It was cut in the shape of a heart.

A lump rose in my throat and I had to swallow the urge to cry. I pushed all thoughts of Jordan out of my mind; I needed to be strong - or at the very least look strong - to insure my survival in the Games.

Standing up, I glanced around my room for the last time, before walking out my bedroom door and into the silent corridor. The thought crossed my mind that I may never come back to this house - but it didn't sadden me; it hadn't been a proper home in a long time.

I reached the large front door and walked out into the packed town square. People were milled everywhere, standing in solemn groups around the different pens containing children between the ages of twelve and eighteen. I carefully made my way to the large group of sixteen-year-old girls, recognizing a few familiar faces, and entered the gated enclosure.

I had arrived just in time because the mayor was just crossing the stage to the podium. A hush rippled across the crowd and the cameras facing the stage flicked on. We were live.

The mayor gave a quick speech to the crowd and read out a list of our past victors, making sure to reveal how "excited" everyone in District One was about this years Games. Walking off the stage to a smatter of applause, the mayor made room for Juniper Mauve – the District's presenter.

She beamed excitedly at the crowd as a large table was wheeled onto the stage, carrying two large glass bowels filled to the brim with small paper strips; one for the girls names, the other for the boys.

"Let's get started then! Girls first." She shoved her hand into one of the bowels and slowly dragged a piece of paper out, clearly attempting to build upon the already high tension.

Crossing back over to the podium, Juniper unfolded the slip with barely contained excitement. "Velvet Perry!" She practically shrieked in her lilting capitol accent, her long purple hair swishing from side to side.

A small girl made her way forward, no older than thirteen, her face stricken with fear. She stumbled up the stairs and onto the stage, her body shaking.

"This way, sweetheart." Juniper steered her to the centre of the platform, arm draped around the girl's shoulders.

"Do we have any volunteers?"

Velvet stared pleadingly to the crowd, her eyes glassy with unshed tears.

_It's your lucky day, _I think, slowly raising my hand into the air.

"I volunteer" My voice echoed to the front and the cameras swiveled in my direction. Juniper beamed at me and waves me forward. A path opens in the crowd so I begin to walk, casually smoothing down my dress.

Calmly, I walk up to the front, conscious of the fact that all of Panem are watching my every movement. Holding my head high, I climbed the short set of stairs.

"T-thank you," Velvet stuttered, quickly brushing pass me and running into the crowd.

Juniper skips over to me and drags me to the centre of the stage, her arm clamped strongly around my shoulder in a vice-like grip.

"Well aren't you brave! What's your name?" Her high-pitched voice pierced the air.

"Jenna Sapphire." I reply, my voice sounds strange - guarded.

"Hmm, that name sounds awfully familiar…" Her eyebrows drew together as a quizzical expression formed on her face. "Where have I heard it before?"

"My brother – Jordan – was a tribute in the Games last year." I explained. "He drowned when the earthquake burst the damn and flooded the arena."

"Oh," Juniper fumbled for words, obviously caught off guard, "well that's awful-"

"He placed forth; I intend to win." I interrupted her, turning to face the cameras dead on. "Remember me. Remember Jordan. Remember us." A silence stretches across the town square and I was pleased to see that my short speech has some sort of effect on the crowd.

"Well, a determined tribute if I've ever seen one! What do you think District One? Have you got yourself another winner?" Gaining back her composure, Juniper led a loud round of applause.

Forcing a smile onto my face, I gave a little wave to the crowd. When Jordan had died, I knew that I would compete in the Games. I had hoped it would somehow make me closer to him; we would go through the same experiences, the same trials and tribulations. But now, having volunteered, I didn't feel any different. Still empty, still sad. And standing there on stage, I couldn't help but wonder if I'd made a mistake.

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Onyx Chaplin's POV

I stared around the packed town square with barely concealed boredom. The mayor was droning on about District One's previous victors, his deep voice warbling across the pavilion.

Tired of standing still, I pushed myself to the front of the pen – shoving aside the group of guys crowded around me. Ignoring the dirty looks and disgruntled mutterings tossed my way, I managed to reach the wooden pickets and I leant forward on the railing.

Bright banners were strung from building to building, the decorations failing to mask the heavy tension of the crowd. I scanned the square, and met the eyes of people here and there – most looked anxious, scared for either their family members or themselves. Pathetic. They obviously couldn't see the glory that could be gained from competing in the Games. The possibility of victory. The sense of triumph.

I turned my eyes back to the stage and was pleased to see that the mayor was making his way down from the podium at last. I clapped half-heartedly with the rest of the crowd, more to celebrate that fact that his speech was over than anything else.

Juniper Mauve quickly took his place, greeting District One and the rest of Panem in her irritating high-pitched accent. Tossing her long purple hair over her shoulder, she nattered on about how "this year was going to be the best year yet!" For as long as she's been our district's presenter, Juniper's always said the exact same thing and if I cared to, I could probably quote exactly what she was saying back to her.

"Let's get started then! Girls first." She walked over to a large table that held the two large glass bowels and dipped her hand into the first, eventually pulling out a slip of paper containing a written name of one of the hundreds of girls in District One between the ages of twelve and eighteen.

Juniper bounced back over to the podium and excitedly read out the name "Velvet Perry!"

A small girl nervously made her way to the stage and tripped up the stairs. I was disappointed to note that I was the only one that laughed.

Juniper led her to the centre of the stage and asked for any volunteers, smiling a faked sympathetic smile down at the shaking girl.

I hoped that no one would volunteer for her; she would be an easy target, but, alas, someone did. A girl around my age confidently stuck a hand in the air and proclaimed she would take the girl's place. I recognized her from around town but I couldn't recall her name. Jane? Jewel? Something along those lines.

I briefly remembered seeing her practicing at the training centre. She was somewhat prepared then.

She calmly made her way up to the stage, walking slowly through the crowd and giving me plenty of time to assess her. Dark-blonde hair, blue eyes, long legs, slim-build and a toned body – she was definitely attractive. Her gait was graceful; agile. I silently cursed - she would definitely be a harder competitor to beat than that Velvet girl.

When she arrived on stage, Juniper practically pounced on her and dragged her into the line of the cameras, "What's your name?"

"Jenna Sapphire." Her voice was controlled, unwavering.

_Ah, that was it. Jenna._

They continued talking on stage, Juniper questioning Jenna's last name. Come to think of it, it did ring a bell.

Immediately the girl's tone changed, it became stronger; "My brother – Jordan – was a tribute in the Games last year."

I raised my eyebrows in surprise. I actually remembered her brother, Jordan Sapphire. Although he had been two years older than me, I knew him well from the training centre. He had been good with knives - though it didn't do him much good in the arena. No one saw the flood coming.

Oh, well. If he didn't want to die; he shouldn't have volunteered.

People had lost a lot of money betting on last years Games. No one expected that Annie girl to win after she went crazy and hid from the other competitors. But, being from District Four, she was the best swimmer in the bunch. Luck of the draw, in this case - she wouldn't have won if the Gamemakers hadn't gotten a little bored and decided to spice the Games up a little bit. Poor judgment on their part; it caused a lot of trouble for Snow and his chancellors when the citizens of the Capitol started demanding their money back.

I pulled myself back to the present and focused on the scene in front of me. I scoffed to hear that Jenna girl was rambling on about her dead brother and how he was the reason she had volunteered. Touching.

Well, at least the situation could play in my favor; with the girl hell-bent on avenging her brother she could be easily distracted. I shrugged, stowing that piece of information away in my mind to dwell on at a later date.

On stage, I was pleased to see that Jenna had finished talking and was standing to the side, while Juniper walked back over to the table that was holding the two glass bowels. This was it - the boys turn.

Everyone knew that I was volunteering this year. I'd been training for this moment for most of my life. My great-uncle, a former victor, had been my role model for years now and I proudly wore his anklet on my left leg as my future token. It had been lucky for him and I hoped it would do the same service for me.

I began to grind my teeth as Juniper shoved her hand into the bowel and rattled it around. I was impatient to volunteer. I needed to get up on stage and claim my spot. My trainer – Splinter – had threatened any potential rivals to stop them from volunteering, however, I wouldn't be surprised if a scuffle occurred to get to the stage first. I wasn't worried though, one knock to the head and they'd all drop like stones.

Juniper skipped back to the podium, waving the slip of paper she had grabbed above her head like a tiny flag. Ugh, she was annoying.

"Come on, come on." I muttered, cracking my knuckles with impatient anger.

She cleared her throat with a little cough and beamed at the crowd.

_If she doesn't get a move on soon, I swear I will jump up on that stage and-_

"Onyx Chaplin!"

_Huh? _My rage quickly melted to confusion.

"Say what?" I began to laugh as the cameras turned and focused on me.

I slowly walked forward out of the pen, a large grin formed on my face. Walking through the crowd, I received slaps on the back and exchanged high-fives with those I passed – most looked shocked at my reaction.

I practically sprinted up the stage steps and pumped my fist in the air. Brushing past the Jenna girl – who now looked gloomy and distant – I reached Juniper's side where she casually put an arm around my shoulder.

"My, my, my, aren't you a happy one?" She smiled brightly and turned me to face the cameras.

"Well, of course, I've trained for this my entire life! I planned to volunteer but obviously the odds are in my favor." I laughed down at her and then winked at the camera.

Her annoying laugh pierced my ears and it took a lot of effort not to smack her round the head. _How did she get to be presenter for District One?_

"Well let's just hope no one volunteers in your place!" Juniper replied, playing up to the camera.

"They wouldn't dare," I snarled, glaring at the crowd. From the corner of my eye I could see Splinter pacing threateningly near the rows of eligible guys.

"Any takers?" She enthusiastically asked the crowd, knowing that I would slug anyone that dared make their way up on stage. I could tell that she hoped for this to happen – nothing like a good piece of television drama to help boost your career, right?

The crowd remained silent and I saw Juniper's smile fall a fraction of an inch. "Well, I guess that's it, Panem! Lets give it up for your District One tributes!" The crowd burst into applause as Juniper dragged Jenna to my side and into the view of the cameras.

I smiled and winked, trying to butter-up the viewers early on - I'd need good sponsors to help me win the Games. But to be honest, I wasn't so worried. How could the public not love me? I was a shoe-in for sure.

I stole a quick glance at Jenna; she was staring passively out at the audience, her face carefully masked – only up-close could I see that her eyes betrayed her emotions. She look sad, maybe even disappointed. Probably still moping after her dead brother.

I rolled my eyes and smirked. Leaning down, I whispered in her ear, "Gonna have to try better than that, Princess. The other tributes are gonna eat you alive if you don't throw on a stronger façade – you've already provided them with bait to crack your spirit by talking about your brother. You must really miss him."

Her head flicked up and she glared at me, a snarl playing at her lips.

"Now that's more like it." I smiled patronizingly back at her, purposely trying to push her buttons.

She looked as though she were about to punch me, but we we're interrupted by the peacekeepers who had come to take us into custody.

With a flick of her hair, Jenna spun away and stormed off of the stage, holding her head high and clenching her fists. Obviously I'd struck a nerve.

Herded away by the peacekeepers, the sound of the mayor reciting the Treaty of Treason and the Panem national anthem playing from the speakers, I laughed all the way to custody.

This was going to be easier than I thought.

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**So, did you like it? **

**Leave a review and tell me what you think…**


	6. Reapings: District Two

**Live Together, Die Alone**

**The Seventy-first annual Hunger Games**

**Author's Note: Here you go; chapter two! **

***Quick Note: Only one spot left! The male tribute for District Nine is up for grabs so get submitting!***

**Happy Reading…**

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**Reapings: District Two**

Zroya Mark's POV

I walked down the cobbled streets, sandwiched between my mother and father. The crowd parted as we walked, scampering out of our way as if in fear – avoiding my eyes. We had left our house in the Victor's Village and were currently making our way to the Town Square where the reapings were going to take place.

I held my head high and tossed my long hair over my shoulder, the inky-black tresses as smooth as silk from the deep conditioning treatment my mother had paid for. I checked my blood red nails for any chips, pleased to see that the sharp tips held no flaws. The colour matched perfectly with my expensive gown, and for once I could applauded my mother's attentiveness over small details such as this.

My sister Valerie skipped along ahead of us, her curly blond hair bouncing up and down. Her excitement was irritating, to say the least. She was eager to attend her first reaping as an eligible candidate, but skipping. Seriously?

_Oh, please, your just jealous of her. She's so pretty and popular – so unlike you._

I jumped as the breath caught in my throat. I whipped my head around to see if my parents had heard, but then I remembered. Only I could hear the damn voice.

"Nervous?" My mother asked, the faint scar on her cheek moving as she spoke. The pale line stood out against her tan skin, stretching from the corner of her mouth to her high cheekbone.

"No, of course not!" I responded sharply, "I'm just-"

"Well, whatever it is, snap out of it! You _look_ nervous and nerves are a sign of weakness, and if you look weak, the other contestants wont take you seriously and-"

"And if they don't take me seriously, I'll lose." I finished snidely, knowing my mother's speech by heart.

"Exactly," She replied, ignoring my rude tone, "and you don't want to lose, do you?"

"Of course she doesn't," my father chipped in, his cool grey eyes fixed on my own. "Our Zroya was a born winner, just like her mother."

My mother smiled, her hand subconsciously reaching up to touch her scar – the only reminder of her time in the Games. She had won several years before I was born in the forty-ninth Games, and she had made it her life purpose to mold me into a winner like herself. My father was the most established trainer in District Two and he had dragged me along to his training sessions ever since I could walk. He had mentored a large number of victors in his career but insisted I was his best and favorite student. Of course found it easy to believe him - I didn't have a reason not to. I was considered the most skilled fighter in District Two and I outshone all of my competitors at the training centre.

_Just keep telling yourself that. _The voice cut through my thoughts, slicing like a knife and sending chills up my spine. _Everyone knows that crazy people like to delude themselves with convenient lies. Maybe if you wish hard enough it will turn into a reality. Or not. _

I swallowed hard and composed myself, fixing a hard mask over my features. I noticed a young boy staring at me, his innocent eyes scared. I snarled in his direction and he whimpered, pressing closely into his mother's side and hiding his face in her skirt.

I rolled my eyes in agitation at the pressing crowd that had dramatically increased in number the closer we approached the Town Square. Eventually, we pushed our way through, occasionally having to nudge people out of the way with my sharp elbows. My attention was immediately captured by District Two's presenter, Sivius Rostric, as he laughed animatedly on stage. His peppermint coloured skin was stretched severely across his face, arching his eyebrows up as though he were constantly surprised. Sivius had been District Two's presenter for almost thirty years, and my mother claimed that he looked almost human when she had volunteered; now he looked like a shiny wax-work model - desperately trying to cling onto his youth with the crazy plastic-surgery procedures that were so popular in The Capitol.

"I'm going to head up on stage to sit with the other victors." My mother told us, eyes already focused on her place on stage. She distractedly kissed my father and patted Valerie on the head, before turning to me and casually stating "I'll see you on stage." With a quick smile, she dashed off and disappeared in the crowd, desperate to join the other victor's on stage.

"I'm going to take Valerie to her enclosure." My father nodded in my sister's direction, her blonde hair just about visible in the throng of people. "I'll see you in custody." He gave me a rare smile of encouragement before walking over to my sister, dragging her away from the large group of friends that she always managed to acquire whenever we went out.

I made my way in the opposite direction and walked towards the assigned area for the eighteen year old girls. The pen was the closest to the stage and I could clearly see my mother laughing with Titania Mars, our neighbor from the Victor's Village. From the corner of my eye, I could see the other girls in the enclosure slowly edge away from me as I walked into the pen. I turned to face them, scowling at them each individually. I didn't have the time for friends because of my vigorous training schedule – and anyway, I found all the girls my age infuriatingly childish.

_Hardly, _the voice scoffed, _you don't have any friends because everyone's terrified of you. But please, carry on making excuses…_

I closed my eyes, trying to block the voice out. It was uncharacteristically chatty today and I couldn't understand why.

I looked for something to distract myself and noticed the mayor approaching the tall podium. A hush fell about the square and I could just make out my sister's excited voice whisper, "It's about to start!"

I shook my head in disdain at my sister's antics and focused on the mayor as he read out the Treaty of Treason and introduced the District's victors to the sound of applause. My mother waved at the cameras when her name was called, sweeping her gaze across the square and catching my eye, smiling proudly. I nodded in return and got myself ready, relaying my mother's instructions in my head. I mentally ticked them off: hold your head high…back straight…shoulders back…don't look weak.

I nodded, satisfied at my mental recall, as Sivius replaced the mayor on the podium. He began to joke with the crowd, drawing out a few polite laughs and playing to the camera. Eventually – almost reluctantly, as though instructed to hurry up through the small ear piece he wore in his ear - he moved on to the _real reason _everyone was here_._ Sivius made his way over to the two large glass bowels situated on a table in the centre of stage, filled to the brim with small paper slips containing the names of every eligible child in the district.

"Girls first, as always," he attempted a smile, struggling to move his artificially plump lips .

With one smooth motion he drew out a slip and flattened it out. Turning to the cameras, he cleared his throat and read out the girls name with gusto, "Verges Nym!"

Before the girl could even exit her pen, I quickly shouted, "I volunteer!" and strutted forward our of my enclosure, slamming the gate loudly. I could hear the girl that had been chosen sighed in relief, the sound of clogged tears fresh in her throat. I saw Valerie reach over and hug her. Of course my sister _had_ to be friends with her.

Storming up the stairs to reach the stage, a wave of nervous applause echoed around the square - people not quite sure how to react to my rash actions. Idiots - couldn't they recognize a future victor? I stormed across the stage and came face to face with Sivius. The applause had now died out and we were left standing in an awkward silence.

"Couldn't wait to get up here, could you?" Sivius bantered, winking at the camera.

I didn't respond to his attempted charm, merely raising my chin a fraction of an inch.

"Well, what's your name?" Sivius asked after a pause, eyeing my nervously.

"Zroya Marks." I replied, my voice cold.

"Ah!" His eyes brightened, seeing a window. "Do you happen to be the daughter of our very own Nerissa Marks – winner of the forty-ninth Games?"

I nodded in response, and gestured to my mother, "Yes, I am. And I intend to be just as successful as she is."

" I thought I spotted the family resemblance!" He chuckled and turned to face my mother. "She's as gorgeous as you are, Nerissa." My mother laughed and beamed at the cameras, pleased at the recognition.

"Well, let's hope we have another winner in our mitts! Continue the family legacy, eh, Zroya?" He elbowed me playfully and I had to resist the urge to stamp on his foot with my sharp heels. Taking a deep breath, I nodded in response, clamping my teeth together.

_You're not going to win. They all think you're a joke. That you're insane. When you reach the Capitol they'll lock you up in a loony bin and throw away the key._

I stood motionless - rigid - thankful that Sivius had started a joking conversation with the group of victors and had taken his attention off of me.

_In the arena you're going to go mad like Annie Cresta. At least she had a reason – watching that boy get beheaded. But you, you're just weak! You'll disgrace your parents! Dishonor your family name!_

"I'm not weak!" I hissed before I could stop myself.

"Sorry, what did you say?" Sivius turned and looked at me, confusion clear in his tone.

_People say talking to yourself is the first sign of madness. _The voice taunted me, viciously hissing the words.

"Oh, nothing," I replied, trying to compose myself.

He nodded, eyes nervous once more, and quickly turned away to address the crowd.

_See, even he knows something's wrong with you. It's just a matter of time before they all find out you're crazy, Zroya. That is, if they don't know already..._

Drusus Vann's POV

"Does this guy ever shut up?" Tullus muttered to me, shaking his head at Sivius on stage. His peppermint green skin was stretched gruesomely over his face, shining in the spotlight. It looked like plastic.

"Apparently not," I replied, cracking my knuckles impatiently. "I wish he'd just get on with it."

A few people in the crowd chuckled politely at the presenter's joke and I began to grind my teeth. You would have thought he'd get the hint by now, but no...

Tullus patted me on the back, "Don't stress, Man. He'll get a move on eventually."

Tullus had been my best friend in District Two for years. We met at primary school and although we were moving in different directions in our lives (myself training to be a career, whilst Tullus to be a peacekeeper) we still managed to stay reasonably close.

I'd been training extensively for seven years for this exact moment and it couldn't come quickly enough. I had been sucked into the intense world of training at the age of ten, when a trainer had spotted me whilst I was doing a sports session at school. I had shown great potential, gifted with physical strength and swiftness that was uncommon in a boy my age. Of course, it had been a lot of hard work to get where I was today: waking early every morning to get in a session before school, and training late into the evening - often missing meals with my family. But it had payed off... eventually, and I was anxious to get started.

"Hey," Tullus elbowed me and nodded towards the stage. Sivius had finally stopped talking and had reluctantly made his way over to the table holding the two large glass containers. The small slips of paper filled each bowel to the rim, threatening to brim over at the slightest gust of wind.

"Girls first, as always!" He attempted a charming smile but failed horribly, barely able to move an inch of skin due to the amount of work he'd had done.

However, capable of moving the rest of his body, he quickly thrust his hand in the correct bowel and drew out a crinkled slip. Casually smoothing it out, reveling in the ominous tension of the crowd, he took a long pause before finally calling out, "Verges Nym!"

Heads turned in the crowd, one after another, as everyone turned to look at the girl that had been chosen. I quickly found her - her shocked expression acting as a beacon to my eyes. She shouldn't be worried, though; someone was bound to volunteer in her place.

Confirming what I had suspected, a loud voice called out, "I volunteer," and I saw a tall girl stride out of the enclosure closest to the stage. . The crowd broke out in a shaky applause, everyone surprised at the swiftness of her response - the presenter didn't even have a chance to ask for volunteers.

Oh, well. At least we were moving quickly.

"She's an eager one, isn't she." Tullus commented, nodding at the volunteer. "Tough competition?"

I glanced at the girl, curious to see if I would recognize her from the training centre. Unfortunately, I did.

Practically choking, I cursed. Damn it! it just _had_ to be her.

Zroya Marks. Obviously the odds _weren't_ in my favor.

I let out a slow sigh and tried to resist the urge to punch something. Zroya Marks had been my main rival for years now and I've always been just one small, miniscule step behind her. She's my trainer's daughter and I had been forced to have lesson after lesson with her for several years. She was bloodthirsty and lethal - an excellent fighter. But she was unstable. I'd seen her snap in the blink of an eye; pick fights randomly with those around her. Yelling at herself when she thought no one else was around. I slowly pressed a hand to my face, it hadn't crossed my mind that she would be volunteering today as well. But of course...this was her last chance to enter - next year she would be too old.

I kicked the ground in frustration and Tullus hovered by my side, not knowing what to do.

Grimacing, I drew my attention back to the stage where Sivius was unsuccessfully trying to cajole another laugh out of the audience. Zroya was glaring at the crowd, her red eyes and dark hair contrasting vastly against her pale skin. Her expression kept on changing as though she were having an inner conversation with herself. She looked demented.

As an afterthought, I shrugged. She probably was...

Finally taking the hint, Sivius gave up on trying to win over the crowd and crossed back over to the glass containers. I could see that he chose the longer route to the table, making a conscious effort to stay as far away from Zroya as possible. He'd only known her for five minutes yet he could already sense that something was off with her.

"Now on to the boys!" He cried, digging his hand into the second bowel.

As Sivius slowly rotated his arm, I suddenly felt eyes on the back of my head. I turned, immediately locking eyes with my parents. My mother was studying me intensely, her eyes filled with tear, and my father was shaking his head slowly. Neither of them wanted me to volunteer and had unsuccessfully tried to convince me out of it on several occasions. I hated to see them upset so I smiled reassuringly at them, but I could see it did little to console them.

I slowly turned away, unable to face their grief, just in time to see the presenter make his way back to the podium. Facing the cameras, he spoke loudly to the crowd "And your male tribute for District Two is…" he paused for affect and winked at the camera, "Flynn Marx! Make your way up, young man!" The boy called walked with his head high onto the stage, composed and silent. The presenter dragged him in front of the cameras and placed a shiny green hand on his shoulder.

Tullus kept glancing at me - waiting for me to race to the front - but I held my ground. By waiting I'd have maximum effect over the audience .

"Do we have any volunteers?" Sivius gazed across the Town Square, looking for a raised hand and listening for a loud shout out.

I did neither, waiting just a few seconds to build up the tension. Eventually, afraid that the presenter would move on and pronounce the chosen boy the male tribute, I slowly lifted my hand in the air.

The motion caught the presenters eye, as did that of the boy that had been reaped. His face remained composed, but even from this distance I could see his eyes widen in relief.

"Well come on up!" With a tiny shove, the presenter pushed Flynn away and waved me to the stage.

The crowd began to applaud as I took the boys place, stronger than they had for Zroya. I nodded at people as I walked by, thanking them for their applause, but the effect was quickly ruined when I caught the sound of one of my mother's sobs over the roar.

As I climbed the stairs, I met Zroya's gaze - her red eyes narrowed into small slits. Obviously she wasn't pleased to have me as a fellow tribute.

Glaring back, I brushed passed her and went to stand beside Sivius, grimacing at his sickly green skin, shiny with sweat.

"What's your name?" He asked, over-exaggerated excitement clear in his voice – I assumed to make up for his inability at expressing facial expressions.

"Drusus Vann," I replied, reaching out to shake his hand. I kept my voice calm and aloof, trying to project an aura of indifference.

"Well it's good to have you volunteer! I'm sure you'll do everyone here proud!" Wearily, he grabbed Zroya's arm and pulled her next to me, letting go of her as quickly as possible.

"Let's have a round of applause for your District Two tributes, Panem!" The crowd burst into applause once more as the Panem national anthem played overhead.

After a quick search, I found my parents in the crowd, huddled together - silent and motionless.

Slowly, I raised a hand and waved to them, wishing to reassure them, but I accidentally brushed my arm against Zroya in the process. She jumped as though I'd given her an electric shock and she hissed at me under her breath, her sharp nails inching dangerously close to my body. I casually sidestepped to the left, as if to get closer to the cameras, just out of her reach. I could almost feel the daggers she was shooting at me with her eyes.

The Games had barely even begun but I already got the impression that I'd need to watch my back from here on out. Something told me Zroya wouldn't be sticking to the rules in the arena - and that left me with only one option.

I'd need to break them first.

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**Author's Note: So, that was my first time writing in the POV of a schizophrenic :D Was it convincing? **

**Leave me a review and tell me!**


	7. Reapings: District Three

**Live Together, Die Alone**

**The Seventy-first annual Hunger Games**

**Author's Note: Hi everyone! Sorry for the delay... schools been hectic to say the least :S But here it is: the District Three reapings at last! Hallelujah :D**

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**Reapings: District Three**

Kieri Aran's POV

I dashed lithely along the rooftops, my long brown hair spilling out behind me as the wind rang loudly in my ears. My feet subconsciously dodged the loose roof tiles, jumping from left to right with as much ease as a mountain goat on a rocky cliff-face. Approaching a wide gap between the houses, I put on a large burst of speed and sprung off of the edge – my arms stretched forward as I flew in the air. Landing with a quiet thud, legs bent beneath me, I steadied myself on a chimney.

I glanced down and spotted Kore racing along a narrow alleyway, her thin form concealed in the shadows. Sensing my gaze, she looked up and smiled, all the while making a quick signal with her hands and gesturing towards the left. I nodded and pushed myself up, snapping back into action.

In the distance, I could hear the noise from the Town Square and knew I was getting closer to my destination.

Running against the warm breeze with the hot sun shining above me, I almost smiled. It was a shame that such a horrible event should fall on a day as beautiful as this.

I eventually landed on the roof of a popular electronic store that overlooked the square. I crouched down and shuffled forward, practically crawling on my stomach so as not to gain any attention from the crowd below. If the peacekeepers spotted me up here, I wouldn't have put it past them to shoot me down, no questions asked.

I rested my chin on the edge of the roof and peered over the edge, surveying the area.

The square was decorated with pitiful hangings, the triangular pieces of fabric drooping limply from building to building. The faded scraps of material were tattered and frayed - reflecting today's grim mood. People huddled in large groups, circling the children that were eligible for the Games as if their presence could protect them from harm. Peacekeepers meandered back and forth, occasionally stopping to dictate orders and herd people along.

I spotted Jennen in the crowd, his pale crop of hair zigzagging quickly across the pavilion. Every so often he would casually brush pass someone or fake a stumble, gaining close access to open pockets and loose valuables. Marni was also working the public, but in the opposite direction, her small hands deftly plucking in and out as she weaved through the sea of people.

"What did you get?" Kore appeared silently beside me, making me jump. She quickly mimicked my position and swept a thick curl of hair behind her ear, out of her eyes. She studied my face; checking for any signs of injury or misfortune.

I met her gaze and grinned, trying to eradicate her concerns for my safety. Kore was only a few years older than myself, but she was the closest thing to a mother figure in my life. She constantly worried about me even though I was quite capable of looking after myself. It was nice that she cared, though, albeit slightly annoying.

Digging into my deep pocket, I distracted her with my stolen goods, pulling out a large handful of bronzed coins, a pearl necklace and two golden rings.

"Good haul," she murmured, eyes running over the loot. "Did you have any trouble?"

"None. The house had incredibly lax security. Arrogance at it's best, I suppose." I replied, tossing one of the coins in the air, beams of light reflecting off of its shiny surface.

"This'll fetch a hefty price at the market," Kore chuckled as she picked up the string of pearls, the milky surface glinting colours of pink and blue. "You did well, Kid."

I scowled at the term 'kid'. Torin, an old friend of mine, had given me the nickname when we first met, and unfortunately it had stuck. I was the smallest in our little gang of thieves – both in height and in years - which meant I was always the one to crawl through the tiniest spaces. The cracks about my height were irksome, yes, but I reassured myself with the fact that half of our heists wouldn't have gone to plan without my needed assistance.

Kore glanced at me out of the corner of her eyes, "Oh, wipe that scowl off of your face! You know I'm only teasing…"

"Yeah, I do," I half-smiled, "…doesn't stop it from being as annoying as hell, though."

Kore laughed in response, pushing herself up off of the tiles and offering me her hand. She nodded towards the town square, "Reapings are about to start. We should store this stuff to grab later – if the peacekeepers catch us we wont be getting it back."

I let he pull me up, her smooth palm warm against my own. As she bent down to pick up my stolen goods, I fished my small dagger out of its sheath and walked towards the large chimney that towered skyward from the centre of the roof. I trailed my hand along the rough bricks, small pieces of red and brown clay crumbling beneath my fingertips. I stopped when I felt the small tremor, a miniscule shake that alerted me to the loose brickwork. With a quick flick of my wrist, I thrust the dagger into the small gap and wriggled the blade around. Slowly, the brick inched its way out of the structure and fell into my hands, dust and clay flying everywhere. I coughed, waving my free hand to clear the air.

Kore appeared beside me, carrying a beaten leather pouch that she had used to store the coins and jewellery. When she handed it over, I placed the pouch into the empty crevice inside of the brick. The sunlight illuminated a small symbol engraved into the clay, undetectable to those that wouldn't know what to look for. It was our group's emblem – an outline of a stalking cat.

Slotting the brick back into place, I brushed the dirt off of my green dress and sheathed my dagger back.

"When we get down there, you stay clear of the peacekeepers." Kore's mouth tightened, eyes squinting into the distance. "They're beginning to know our game."

I nodded knowingly; I had been chased by the peacekeepers on numerous occasions, now more so than ever. Just last week I had been caught stealing a wallet from a man's rucksack and they'd chased me halfway round the district. I only managed to escape by hiding in a broken air vent. I didn't tell Kore about my little adventure - it would only panic her.

We walked towards the building's edge that overlooked a small alleyway that lead onto the square. A thick, black drainpipe clung to the wall of a neighboring building, so I took the jump at a run and flung myself forward, nimbly grasping hold of the pipe and shimmying down. Kore waited until my feet had touched the ground before she too slid down the pipe, her actions as graceful as a jungle cats.

"We'll all meet beneath the clock tower when the reapings are over," Kore directed, guiding me forward to the beam of light at the end of the narrow path. "Stay safe, okay?"

"Stay safe," I promised, repeating her words. She reached over and smoothed down a lock of my long brown hair before dashing out into the sea of people, quickly disappearing in the crowd.

I took a calming breath – and before I could hesitate - threw myself into the fray. People were everywhere; jammed tightly together in the over packed square. The pavilion was by no means small; it just wasn't built to accommodate such a large assembly of people. However, it did make it easy to hide from the peacekeepers.

Today was the gang's busiest day of the year; half of us would target the crowd, pick pocketing and such, while the others would break into their empty houses. I did feel a small pang of guilt for our victims, but we did what we did to survive. I'm sure if there was another way to sustain us, someone would have thought of it by now.

Torin sped pass me, his golden mop of hair bouncing up and down. He spared me a quick wink and a knowing smile – telling me he had acquired something good – before disappearing as quickly as he'd arrived. I continued on, ducking low and shielding myself behind a somber group of adults as a peacekeeper stomped by. When he walked by, I made a risky move and dived behind him, following quietly in his wake as people quickly moved out of his way. I soon reached my pen, the words 'Girls: Thirteen' painted onto a scruffy cardboard sign that hung from the fence. I braced my hands on the wooden railing and hoisted myself inside to join the large group of sniveling girls. I could smell their terror in the air.

Personally, I wasn't so scared. Well, not as much as those around me. I was more anxious for my friends – out of everyone, only Jennen and Kore were old enough to be exempt from the Games. When my parents had died, Jennen had taken me under his wing; provided me with shelter, given me food, introduced me to his gang. He had given me a new family. For that, I owed him everything.

A collection of peacekeepers began to march across the square, commanding a heavy silence. They sternly escorted the last remaining people to their appointed pens. The group came dangerously close to my own enclosure so I immediately ducked my head down, my dark hair shielding my face like a curtain. Most of them would recognize me from the streets and I couldn't risk getting caught – not today, with no plausible escape route.

I attempted to sink back into the group of girls, trying to get as far away from the peacekeepers as possible, but it was useless. We were so tightly crammed together that I could barely breath.

The presenter had begun to speak on stage, but I was far too distracted to listen. My eyes flickered up to see if the peacekeepers had moved on, but they hadn't. One of them was staring at me. My breath caught in my throat when I realized that I recognized him – he had been one of the ones to chase me last week. I could see his expression change as he recognized me too, a slow snarl forming on his thin lips.

My heart jumped out of my chest as turned to confer with his colleagues. One by one, their heads swiveled around to look in my direction, all of their faces as cold as ice. Desperately, I twisted around and attempted to squeeze through the impenetrable wall of girls surrounding me. But no, I was trapped.

Vivid images began to flash in my mind. Getting hauled away by the peacekeepers. Being whipped and tortured as they attempted to find out information about our gang and its members. We had caused a lot of trouble for them in the past few years and I'm sure they would repay the favor none too kindly.

I frantically looked around the square one last time, searching for something - anything - to get me out of this mess!

If this turned ugly, everyone would rush to my defense. Jennen. Kore. Torin. _Everybody._ I couldn't risk their safety.

I needed a distraction…and I got one.

"Kieri Aran!"

My name echoed across the square. I froze in shock as my mind struggled to process what had just occurred. With deliberate slowness, my body on emotional lockdown, I turned to look at the scene on stage. The presenter was standing at the podium, an expectant smile plastered on his face. There was a small piece of paper clenched in his hand. A piece of paper containing my name.

I had promised Kore to stay safe. I guess that promise was about to be broken.

Keid Sylvester's POV

The peacekeeper pushed me viciously into the pen, shoving the butt of his gun into the centre of my back.

"Jeez!" I cried, turning to face him. "Are you really that impatient?"

"Next time don't dawdle," the man snarled, enunciating each word with a shake of his raised gun, pointed squarely at my chest.

I took a quick step back and raised my hands defensively. The peacekeeper rolled his eyes and stormed off with a disgruntled huff, no doubt in search of other latecomers. I sighed with relief at his departure. In hindsight, I shouldn't really have yelled at a guy with a gun, especially one in a position of power. But it was fun to push peoples' buttons – to get them all riled up and angry. A sure fire way to eradicate boredom.

I stared around, stuck at the back of the enclosure, as far away from the stage as I could possibly get. Ugh. I sighed in frustration. The reapings were so dull; standing around for hours, listening to the mayor go on about how sorry District Three was for participating in the risings, blah, blah, blah… The only good bit was the actual name reapings themselves, but I was so far away to the front that I wouldn't even be able to see the tributes' horrified reactions. Now that was entertainment!

Suddenly, I was slammed forward from behind as the peacekeeper shoved forth a fresh load of stragglers.

"Whoa!" I stumbled forward, slamming into the guy in front of me. As I gained my footing, he turned around and shot me an angry glare, his grey eyes glinting. He seemed about as pleasant as Mr. Trigger-happy with the gun.

"Sorry, mate. They pushed me," I gestured over my shoulder and attempted an apologetic smile.

He nodded once, a disgruntled look painted on his features. As I studied his face, I realized that I recognized him.

"Hey, you're Torin, right?" I asked before he could turn away, shoveling forward with my arms to stand beside him. "I've seen you around town."

He stared at me stoically, his lips pursed, "Is that so?"

"Yeah. You belong to that gang, don't you? The one that steals stuff?" I inquired eagerly.

Torin's faze hardened, "I have no idea what you're talking about." I could tell from his tone that he was lying – he sounded too composed, too emotionless.

"Oh, come on, man. You can trust me – I wont sell you out to the peacekeepers." I paused, waiting for him to answer. When he didn't, I powered on, "Is it true that you and your friends once broke into the mayor's house and stole his-"

"Do people ever tell you that you're really annoying?" Torin cut me off, shooting me an annoyed glare.

"Yes, quite frequently actually, but I don't see what that has to do with anything." I replied pleasantly, knowing full well what he was getting at.

"Look, Keid – it is Keid, isn't it?" At my nod, he continued, "I don't know if you've realized, but this is _the reapings," _he heavily enunciated the last two words. "You know; a time for fear, emotional pain, punishment…" He shook his head in disgust. "This isn't a social hour."

"Noted." I paused for a second, deliberating whether to take his statement into account. I decided against it; "So. Are you?"

He scowled, "Am I what?"

"Part of that gang? Because if you are, that would be so totally cool."

Torin's lip twitched, anger clouding his features. "Are you incapable of being silent for just one second!" His voice sunk into a hiss. He practically spat the last few words at me.

Unaffected by his fury, I replied, "Of course I'm not. I just choose not to be."

"Shut up… just, shut up!" He gestured wildly with his hands, almost hitting me in the process with his clenched fists.

I raised my eyebrows, leaning back on my heels. "I'm sorry I asked," I answered, meaning the total opposite.

"Look…" He took a deep breath, struggling to reign in his emotions. "Could we just stand in silence until the reapings are over?"

Torin had evidently been pushed to his limit for the time being so I decided to give in to his request, "Sure, whatever you want." I moved slightly off to the side, sticking my elbows out to gain a few centimeters of valuable space.

I zoned out, twiddling my thumbs as the mayor droned on in the background, his voice drowning in the heavy silence cast by the peacekeepers. My attention was soon drawn back to attention when I realized that they had congregated in a mass beside one of the girl's enclosures, Mr. Trigger-happy among them.

It looked as though the girl's reapings were about to begin – the presenter stood patiently at the front of the stage – but the crowd seemed more engaged by the scene in front of them. Torin had risen on his toes, peering over the heads of the boys around us to gain a better look. His expression flickered back and forth between confusion and concern.

"What is it? What's gong on?" I whispered to him, but received no answer.

The presenter's high-pitched voice cut through the air, obviously incapable of trying to command the crowd's attention but deciding to proceed anyway, "And first, to the girl's reapings!"

"Hey, Torin! What's happening up front?" I elbowed him in the side but he just brushed me off, didn't even spare a glance.

Ugh. I gave up, deciding to focus on the presenter. I'd find out what happened later.

The presenter dug his hand into the bowel and drew out a slip of paper. "Kieri Aran!" Her called the girl's name out to the crowd, his blindingly white teeth glinting in the sunlight.

Several gasps echoed around the square as the name hit home; one coming straight from the mouth of Torin himself.

Intrigued, I stared inquiringly at him, noting his horrified expression. He must know her. Bummer.

"Hey?" I leant to the side, waving a hand in front of Torin's face. "You must know her, right? She's in that gang of yours, isn't she?"

Slowly, he nodded his head, face grim.

"What's wrong? Are you, like, in love with her or something?" I asked, my curiosity peaked.

It took a long while for him to reply, never peeling his eyes off of the small girl as she made her way to the front of the crowd. "She's like a sister to me."

"Oh." I paused, unsure how to react in this situation. In the end, I just said, "Well, that's tough, Man. But life's life. Luck of the draw and all that…"

Torin swung around so fast that I felt a gush of wind fly past my face. He snarled, fists clenched angrily at his sides.

I immediately backed up, barely managing a small step before colliding with the person behind me. I held up my hand in a peaceful gesture, "Calm down, Man. It was merely an observation – a passing comment if you will…"

When his expression didn't waver, I tensed, expecting a blow to the head. Instead, Torin turned away and stormed in the direction of the stage - the effect slightly ruined by the fact that he had to pause every second to squeeze through the groups of people.

I scoffed at his reaction and twisted around to see if his little display had attracted any attention. It hadn't. From what I could see, everyone was staring back and forth between the group of peacekeepers and the female tribute on stage. Maybe she was the one that caused the disturbance…

Interesting – the Games had barely begun and yet the drama was already sky high.

I bet it would make good television for the Capitol folk. Heck, it'd be good television everywhere. The people from the Capitol are a strange bunch, though, with all that weird plastic surgery and skin pigmentations. They'd just eat this stuff up. Betting on the tributes and what not – making money off of the Games as if it were a sport. Well, I guess it kind of is, in their eyes. But I swear, if I were chosen, I wouldn't put up with any of that cra-

"Keid Sylvester!"

My head whipped up. I stared around, feeling the gaze of a hundred pairs of eyes on me. Well, I sure hadn't seen that coming. Sure, a tiny part of you always worries that you'll be chosen - but just look at the chances. One name in thousands! I mean those are some tiny odds. But no. It just _had_ to be me.

I kicked the ground in frustration, "You've gotta be kidding me…" Surprisingly, I was more annoyed than anything else.

The boys in the pen scrunched together, clearing a tiny path to the gate at the front of the enclosure. I walked forward, cursing my misfortune, and met the eyes of Torin, leaning against the wooden barrier directly in my path.

I gave him a dry look, and stood patiently while he pushed open the gate and waved me forward with a flourish of his hands. His condescending mutter of "Sorry, Man. But life's life. Luck of the draw and all that," traveling with me to the stage.

"Come on up, Keid, and say hello to Panem!" The presenter trilled over the crowd, beckoning me forwards.

I climbed up the small set of stairs and joined the presenter and Kieri on stage, a feeble amount of applause traveling in my wake. I waved and smiled into the large camera lenses, swallowing my frustrations, and answered several pointless questions asked by the presenter.

When that was over, I was instructed to shake hands with Kieri, finding myself surprised at the firmness of her grip in comparison to its small size. Both of us were then ushered to the back of the stage, leaving the stage open for the Mayor to recite the treaty of treason.

I saw this as a perfect opportunity to interact with Kieri – check out the competition as it were, try and gain her trust. Sure, she was pretty tiny, but if she was part of that thieving gang of hers, I bet she had a couple of talents hidden up her sleeve.

"Well, this sure sucks…" I commented, angling my body towards hers, planting an open smile on my lips. "What are your thoughts?"

She stared blankly at me, her slanted green eyes piercing my own. Her mouth was set in a thin line, content on leaving me unanswered.

"Fine, don't answer," I held my hands up in mock defense. "I was just trying to make small talk."

"This is neither the time nor place for pleasantries." She gave me a patronizing look, her eyebrows deftly arched, before turning back to face the front.

I sighed internally; that seemed to be a popular opinion these days. You try to be nice to someone, start up a conversation, but no.

She seemed content on ignoring me, her shoulders tense with the strain of composure. Fine. If she didn't want to play nice, so be it.

I tuned my attention towards the mayor, but he was barely halfway through the treaty. Bored out of my mind, I played with the black bracelet on my wrist, twanging the thin elastic to the tune of Panem's national anthem.

"Stop!" Kieri hissed, nudging me sharply with her elbow.

"Stop!" I mimicked her, pulling a face. I rolled my eyes and continued playing with the bracelet.

Kieri didn't react quite as I had hoped. She just gave an exasperated sigh and kept her head trained to the front

What a killjoy – no fun at all. For a thief she sure was dull.

This was gonna be a long couple of weeks…

* * *

** So, how was it? Good? Bad? Amazingly awful? Tell me in a review...**

**:D**


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